


Everyday Deeds of Ordinary Folk

by ForAllLove



Series: Peace Until the Morning [2]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bofur is the best, Comfort, Courtship, Craic-Ship, Cultural Differences, First Kiss, Fluff, I love you Bofur, Interracial Relationship, Interspecies, Kissing Lessons, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 19:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForAllLove/pseuds/ForAllLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there are cultural differences, kissing lessons, and an absurd amount of happiness to keep the darkness at bay.</p><p>Slight spoilers for book and upcoming films, locational stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everyday Deeds of Ordinary Folk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lamentforboromir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamentforboromir/gifts).



> Well, this... got out of hand. I hope it makes your heart cry, lamentforboromir; I will shoulder all blame. =3 It is as disgustingly fluffy as I'd feared.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for being so encouraging and boarding this lovely little ship! (Go write. *shifty eyes*)
> 
> EDIT: So there is art for this, can you believe it? By [thejerseydeviledoodleblog](http://thejerseydeviledoodleblog.tumblr.com) on Tumblr! *flails*  
> 

“There is nothing like it in your Shire, Mr. Baggins, nor amongst all the works of men,” said Balin, his gaze lifted, unseeing, towards the north. “Erebor! What might and splendour lie beneath its slopes — such halls, such treasuries to defy mortal imagination!”

Kili leant forward across his knees with hands outstretched as if to gather every word. “But think, we shall soon walk those very halls!” He looked to his brother in excitement barely contained.

Though his mien was more reserved, Fili’s eyes blazed as fiercely as his companions’ and his pipe lay quite forgotten. “What of the forges? Are they as grand as old tales say?”

“Aye, laddie, like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

Bilbo’s mind could not be captivated, as the young dwarves’ were, by remembrances of the lost Kingdom under the Mountain. He would better appreciate its grandeur in person, once it was devoid of dragon. Besides, impending burglary was, at present, something he avoided thinking about.

His attention strayed across the room to the fireplace, where Bombur was toasting bread and serving as something for Bofur to lean against. Bilbo found he looked at Bofur a great deal of late. Dangers and the long days of their journey had brought them together in a way he would never have thought possible in his old life. But, he had since learnt that beauty could be hidden in unlikely places, and the unassuming miner charmed both Took and Baggins so that Bilbo’s heart was won entire.

Bofur met his gaze over Fili’s shoulder, then nodded towards the door. It had been days since they’d had a moment alone, and, free of banquets and Thorin’s keen eye, there seemed no better time to slip away together — but it was _terribly_ fun to tease. Bilbo stared mildly back.

The hopeful gesture was repeated in increasing ridiculousness until he could not suppress his smile.

“Why, whatever is the matter?” Balin asked, amused at having his reminiscences thus received.

Bilbo flushed with guilt, but, when his companions turned to look towards the fireplace, Bombur sat alone, resolved to eat his toast before it cooled. During the ensuing chuckles, Bilbo stood and stretched. “Time for a bit of air, I think.”

“Careful, Master Hobbit,” said Kili, all wide-eyed sincerity, “that you do not stray too close to the docks’ edge at this hour.”

“I’ll wager you’ve had your fill of swimming,” added Fili. “Perhaps one of us should accompany you. It wouldn’t do to have our burglar drowned — or burgled himself!”

“Yes, you won’t go alone, will you?”

“No, thank you, I’ll be perfectly all right. I won’t go far.” Bilbo waved them off and shut the door on their sniggering. Even at this darkening hour, Lake-town was bustling with interested parties hoping for another glance at their strange little guests. Big Folk still made him nervous; he shrank into the shadows near Dwalin’s self-appointed post. “Just, er, stretching my legs,” he offered.

“He’s that way,” Dwalin growled, pointing to the alley around the house.

Bilbo stammered his thanks and fled.

It took only moments to follow the pipe-smoke curling over a tarpaulin down the alley. His mortification was nothing towards the flutter of happiness when Bofur smiled sun-bright at his approach. All teasing was forgotten — Bilbo all but flung himself into his arms.

“Missed holding you,” Bofur murmured against his ear. Bilbo giggled as much from relief as from the tickly moustache. Bofur’s scent was homey, his embrace snug; for the first time since their arrival in Esgaroth, Bilbo felt safe enough to relax.

The lights of the town mingled with moonbeams on the surface of the lake, silver and gold, stirred by echoes of music and the wintering breeze. Bilbo felt less like an outcast here, where hobbit and dwarf could dwell in the secret place of stars above and stars below. They seemed the only two beings in the world.

His neglected ear, however, soon twitched with the heavy tread of a Man.

“Bofur,” he whispered to his companion, who was happily burrowing into his neck, “ _no_. Stop that— stop it, someone’s coming!”

The dwarf shifted so Bilbo was pressed up against the tarpaulin, drew his cloak around them, and resumed puffing at his pipe as though nothing untoward had been happening. Bilbo bit his knuckle to keep from laughing at the absurdity of it all. “Evening,” Bofur called as the townsman passed.

The townsman was more interested in his supper than in gawking, it seemed, and hurried down the alley without a word of greeting. At long last, the footsteps faded. Bofur thumped his head back against the wall and guffawed, and, though he scrambled to shush him, Bilbo couldn’t help but join in. He sagged back against the tarpaulin, which concealed some very sharp corners, to catch his breath while the dwarf extinguished his pipe before they set something on fire. “Isn’t— oh, mercy— isn’t there someplace more private we could go? Upstairs?”

“But Oin’s up there!” Bofur protested with such alarm that he nearly set the hobbit off again. “You know his hearing’s uncanny when he shouldn’t be eavesdropping!”

“Well, we can’t stay in the street, can we?” Bilbo tugged a braid for emphasis. “Besides, it’s dark and getting cold.”

No sooner had he spoken than that cosy hat plopped onto his head, followed by the cloak around his shoulders and a nuzzle for good measure. He let himself be led by the hand while Bofur tried the doors of the nearest warehouse. One was unlocked; they slipped into the silence.

The moonlight shimmering through gaps in the roof illuminated stores of barrels and crates, but not a single comfortable place to sit down. Bilbo wandered after Bofur, wondering about rats, until the dwarf popped inside a straw-lined box. Deeming it a suitable nest, he beckoned to Bilbo, who crawled into his lap and felt very silly. The straw scratched his feet; he bumped both elbows while trying not to bump his head. The Baggins part of him looked on in disapproval. “Why can’t we just find a corner in the house? Everyone knows already — you are not _at all_ subtle.”

Bofur reached up to push the hat further back on Bilbo’s head. “Courtship for us Dwarves is a private matter, a time for lovers to sort out what they mean to each other. We’ll announce it eventually, but this is our time—” Here he traced the shells of the hobbit’s pointed ears. “—to just be together.”

With that, the Baggins part went on holiday.

Bilbo stroked the shaggy braids that framed Bofur’s face; one of the leather ties came loose in his hand. A thoughtful sound bubbled up in his throat, and he began unwinding. Bofur’s hair was clean and soft after the care the company had been given. He nuzzled into Bilbo’s hands as the hobbit worked, letting his own fingers stray from tousled curls to smooth cheeks. The affection proved too much for Bilbo. He gathered as much Tookishness as he could and darted in for a kiss.

It was perhaps the strangest sensation he had ever experienced. Bofur’s moustache tickled all the way down under Bilbo’s chin, and the dwarf’s lips were motionless beneath his. He soon drew back and attacked another plait to hide his apprehension.

“What was that?” Bofur asked. He sounded more curious than disgruntled.

“I thought— I thought you might like to kiss me.”

The dwarf’s brow furrowed. “I do — I have done. What was it you just did?”

Bilbo was flummoxed. He had not feared rejection from his kind-hearted companion, but he hadn’t expected bemusement, either. “I… kissed _you_. Isn’t that how it’s done?”

“This,” Bofur laughed, tipping their heads together, “is how we kiss. Was that a Hobbit-kiss?”

Bilbo was taken aback by both facts — that Bofur had no idea what the press of lips could mean, and that he had been kissing Bilbo all along — so he threaded his fingers through liberated locks and set about demonstrating properly.

Clever Bofur took only moments to respond, only a minute longer to open his mouth. Bilbo’s groan was eclipsed by the dwarf’s squeak when he licked in — and how delicious it was, to caress his beloved this way. Bofur’s hands fluttered over his sides before grasping his waistcoat; Bilbo reached around to unravel the final braid.

They separated to breathe far too soon for Bilbo’s liking, but it afforded him the chance to smooth Bofur’s hair back from the snarls he’d made. He flicked at his whiskers, his earring, before indulging in more Dwarven-kisses, now that he knew them for what they were.

Bofur snickered, pleased with the attentions. “Oh, I like your way. I never would have thought of that.”

It was a good thing his Baggins side had departed, for the Tookishness surged up to ask, “Are there…” and, _oh_ , he felt wicked, “any other things Dwarves do differently from Hobbits?”

Bofur’s smile grew very slowly, dimples-first. “You’ll have to wed me to find out.”

Of all the emotions suddenly clamouring for voice, all Bilbo could manage was an undignified noise.

“If you’ll have me,” Bofur added, and tapped his nose.

Bilbo could do nothing else but curl up for a hug. He had set out for an adventure, and he’d found one; had been promised treasure, and found that, too; and what lay in store for him in Erebor seemed less frightful here, in a box in the dark, held tight by someone who loved him. It was several minutes before he could gather himself to speak again. “And how do our weddings differ?”

Bofur slid down a little flatter, his nimble fingers beginning a plait behind Bilbo’s ear. “We believe true love lasts forever,” he whispered, putting both Dwarven- and Hobbit-kisses into his curls.

“No, that’s the same.”

**Author's Note:**

> *sails into the West*


End file.
